Time after Time
by ferklers
Summary: Geralt and jaskier find themselves in a particular Inn outside of Lyria time and time again. Something's off each time, the Inn, the vampires, the barmaids, among other things but time and time again they return.
1. First Time

"Anima you'll cater to the witcher and his bard won't you?" The appreciative Inn owner hadn't even breached the threshold of the doorway before showing his thanks for being saved by the white wolf. Anima seated at the bar held onto the counter and leaned back in her seat squinting at the duo following behind Thomas. "Quick Janis pour mead for these fellows. They've worked up quite the thirst." The Inn keep continued to gush.

"Both? At the same time or do you wish to draw straws?" Anima gave a dismissive smirk before bringing the legs of the stool down to the ground.

"Straws? I mean it seems only fair-" Jaskier started.

"You paid the fee. There'll be no need for . . . straws." Geralt winced at the prospect of sharing a woman with the promiscuous lutist. He sat all his weight down at a corner booth, finally his muscles relaxed just a bit. He inspected from a distance at the forementioned Anima. Normally he would get a glare of repulsion or oggles of morbid curiosity, there was a fair share of both in the room but it had been years since a barmaid simply ignored him, he lied to himself and dismissed the notion it scuffed his ego ever so slightly.

"Jaskier!" He snapped in the only annoyed cadence he ever called out for his 'friend' He had a feeling this woman was not worth the bother. Jaskier would have noticed too if he was not a moth to the flame that was the female form.

"So does that mean I can take the witcher's turn?" He stuck out a mock chivalrous hand to help Anima from her spot at the bar. Geralt looked on cautiously, waiting for her to slap him broad across his greedy cheeks. Anima sized up the bard from his feet to his scruffed head, let out an unimpressed scoff but took his hand all the same.

"Simple Singer your turn will be more than enough." And with nothing more she lead him away.

Geralt drank with purpose, the Inn keeper was not wrong he had worked up quite a thirst. He let the mugs and moment flow on without much thought 'Wonder if they have a room with a bath free.' He stretched aching bones, the night was growing late it would be time to turn in soon. He pushed the ache aside and went to grab at his mug again but it was snatched from his grasp by a visably sweaty Jaskier who chugged the remnants. "Sorry Geralt thrilling a woman is thirsty work." He plopped across from him.

"Hm." Geralt scoffed, hesitant to believe Jaskier had a thrilling bone in his body.

"Your turn Witcher." Anima not a hair out of place stood above the duo drinking a long gulp from a new mug of mead before placing it down infront of Geralt.

"Thanks for the drink." He gave her a nod. "A . . . turn is unnecessary." He polietly declined.

"Geralt as one best friend to another reconsider. Miss Ani-"

"It was quite the show Bard." She smirked as she watched him glow. "But a show is not what the Witcher is after."

"And what is it? That I'm after?" This woman's boldness was giving Jaskier's a run for it's money. He chuckled as she seemed to square up to him, her pale almost white eyes locking with his briefly before she gave a knowing nod. She leaned in close, her lips against his ear. Her breath warm against his skin.

"You're chasing rest Witcher." She whispered from deep in her throat, it wasn't so much seductive as a parody of the sentiment. He didn't at first notice her hand atop his, still curled around the mug. She pried his didgits off the vessle, knotting her own between them.

"Come now Witcher I can give you what you seek." Floating like a feather she began to pull him towards the rooms in the back. He followed for a period, only snapping to attention at the sound of Jaskier's voice.

"If your lips curl Geralt don't be alarmed . . . it's called a smile."

Geralts senses all seemed to come back to him at once. "Is that why he offered you?" He stopped their paces.

"You mean because I am the best maid in the room and you're just noticing in this light?" Her confidence did not shake. Geralt for a moment looked around, he hadn't been inclined to eye up the other women in the Inn, short of quick glances of thanks to the Inn owner's wife. She wasn't wrong but that wasn't the point.

"Because you're not human . . . not entirely." He could smell the mutation in her blood.

"I like my answer better but anything is possible." She shrugged unphased and began to tug at him again. This was the second response of her's that was unnatural. Normally when he outed a nonhuman he was met with fear or hostility, it seemed the only emotion Anima was capable of was aloofness.

"What are you?" It was a smell he half remembered but her human scent seemed to ebb and flow over what he was trying to pinpoint.

"A woman." She opened the door. "No wonder you can't sleep with all these nagging questions in your skull." Releasing Geralt from her grasp she went to a table of herbs. Mixing, measuring and all together ignoring Geralt. He scowled, he could smell Jaskier's show on the sheets. There was no way he could sleep with this odor wafting around.

"Witch?" He guessed, based on her professioncy with the leaves. "Whatever it is your brewing I won't-"

"It's not for you." Holding up a ville of sludgy liquid she shot a glance to the bed. "sit." She audibly choaked down the mixture. He watched her, waiting for some transformation, some spell. As her mouth opened wide he waited for fangs but was met with nothing but a yawn. "Less than a witch. Good guess." She herself sat on the bed again yawning. "You can guess again. Or ask some more of those questions you like so much. All I ask is that you sit." She patted the mattress.

"Your ability it-"

"Sounds like a question brewing." She laid out on the bed.

"Hm" Geralt relented sitting on the edge of the bed. He could feel it, his body growing heavy.

"A spell." It was his turn to yawn.

"A potion." She corrected him, turning onto her side she began to undo Geralt's armor.

"You say you knew I needed rest. How? Your in my head?" He fought against the heaviness, against Anima's trap he hadn't quite unraveled. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of her laughter.

"Witcher I'm not sure your head is somewhere I'd elect to dwell. Nor would I need be to know you're exhausted." She pulled at his shoulder bringing his back down to the bed. "It's written all over you. Close your eyes."

"No." He fought against his eyelids.

"Fine, I'll be asleep soon. Anymore questions before you go back to waging war upon what you desire?" Anima's eyes shut, her tone softened.

"What was your plan?" He was surprised, a bit disappointed that she'd give up so easily.

"To let you think . . ." She was snoring. The potion had knocked her out.

'Holding some in your mouth were you?" He had put together the most obvious strategy. She drank the potion and planned to kiss him passing it over to him. "Not so clever clever girl." Geralt stood from the bed the victor. "How?" He felt a knee buckle beneath him. Directly after he crashed to the floor the unconcious loser.

Geralt woke in bed with a snap and a snarl. His last concious word was also his first. "How?" He glanced around the room, all his possesions were just where he had left them, he gathered them in a huff. "Not a witch, not a theif . . . Stick to hunting Monsters Witcher a sleuth you are not." Anima was standing over by a window unsheathing the sunlight.

"What did you do?" He stood and quickly closed the gap between them, crowding her, looming, but Anima's smile mearly widened.

"Come now a bad guess is better than none at all. I give it a month maybe two till these mutagens can't keep that body awake with that human mind of yours." She rubbed his temples half mockingly but it did not mean the tender touch had lost all of it's softness, Geralt recoiled all the same. "When you need to rest your bones again. Come find me."

"I-"

"I don't have many rules, but those I state are absolute. I will only answer questions if you sit." She offered the bed back to him.

"Jaskier!" Geralt still feeling her fingers on his face refused to bewitched twice in the same day. "We're leaving!" He walked to the door whipping it open in an unnecessary show of force. He glanced over his shoulder to catch an equally unnecessary glance at the barmaid, a coy smile ever present, wispy fingers waving him a farewell.

"Till destiny crosses our paths again Witcher."

"Fuck your destiney." The door slammed behind him as he swore to himself they'd never return.


	2. The good times

A promise to yourself is by far the easiest to break. Anima had misjudged, not two months, perhaps by Geralt's bull headedness alone his bones refused to seek out rest for the better part of half a year. Though even a Witcher's will has limits, man nor monster could fight sleep forever. "Does this forest seem familiar to you?" It was surprising Jaskier didn't trip more, his eyes never on his footing always instead amongst the distance.

"You say that about every forest." Geralt refused to admit Jaskier's sense of direction had improved along their travels.

"Well to my defense you've seen one shrub you've-" And the trip and stumble came almost on cue. "Seen them all, but no I wrote a song of this place, haven't I?" His feet may betray him, but that mouth never faltered.

"The Alps." Those were the vampiric beasts he had fought the last time they had been here. As of yet it was one of his three guesses for what the mysterious bar maiden's true nature was.

"The who?"

"Not who, what. Monsters."

"Like I said you've seen one shrub you've seen em all." With a pep in his step as Jaskier could hear the noise of civilization he paced up ahead of Geralt and Roach.

"No this is definitely familiar." Jaskier nodded thoughtfully as they entered the town. "That Inn . . ." Jaskier pondered as if he knew there was a memory somewhere. Knowing something is there and having the attention span to grasp it are two different things entirely. "Was surely right there the last time we were here."

"Nothing gets by you Bard." This town seemed different than last to Geralt, brighter, warmer. A less pessimistic Witcher would attribute that to some of the good he had done. 'Spring will do that.' Geralt settled on the more practical explanation of weather as he tied Roach off at the post in front of the Inn.

"So did these Al . ." Another memory lost.

"Alps"

"Did you miss one or what?"

"Not exactly"

Even the Inn seemed brighter as they entered. "Witcher?!" There was a jovial tone to this shout that took both Geralt and Jaskier by surprise. "And the bard's still alive." The Inn keeper Thom came from around the bar hugging both men between his chubby arms.

"Was there a doubt?" Jaskier was baffled by how both inviting and insulting this greeting was.

"Seems I owe Janis a coin. And Thill owes Anima two. Come in have a seat." He released his hug only to have an arm over each man's shoulder guiding them to waiting mugs of mead.

'Is it the building? Cursed? Enchanted?' Geralt felt wary of this abundance of positive energy. He could smell magic faintly, but not enough to soak the floor boards. He scrapped the idea entirely as he took in the whole room. It was only the Inn keeper, his wife and a few maids that seemed to be pleased to have the Witcher in their company. Most other faces were at the expected upturned and side cocked angle of disapproval.

"Anima? Ah now I remember what we did here." A sense of acknowledgement washed over Jaskier.

"Remember? That means you had forgotten me bard?" Anima's half mocking half genuine signature tone whined from across the room. "I suppose an artist such as yourself can't recall every breathtaking performance you're a part of." Her pout tilted the scales towards mockery.

"I no . . . of course I'd never forget . . ." There was blush bleeding into his cheeks. Geralt didn't get it, how could Jaskier take this false fawning as a compliment.

'On second thought it's Jaskier how could he not.' Geralt let out a sigh. "Well as the prolific artist says. You've seen one shrub you've seen them all." Geralt watched as Anima's eyes grew wide in fake insult, then her pout explode into a smile, one Geralt didn't immediately write off as yet another mask.

"Really?"

"I have never said that." Jaskier shook his head vehemently, making desperate eye contact with every soul in the Inn. "Never in my life . . . doesn't even sound like me." He folded his arms as an exclamation to his point.

"So Witcher. What brings you back here?" Anima finally began to make her way across the Inn, slow calculative steps, she knew what he wanted and how very proud of that fact she was. She wanted to see if he was not too proud to admit it.

"You." Geralt did not flinch but someone did.

"Wait really?!" Jaskier glanced up at Geralt in shock and annoyance. "We traveled a week and then some out of our way to . . .there was sure to be an Inn where we were headed, where there's bar maidens surely. Not that you all aren't beautiful unique rose among shrubs." Jaskier tried to salvage his reputation. "But do you know how many Fleders Geralt had to fight to get here? I . . . I nearly died."

"Then I wouldn't be out a coin." The Inn keep stated flatly.

"Perhaps that's the rub, last you were here you both coasted on good graces. Perhaps the Witcher is seeking more charity?" Anima was finally on them, an eyebrow arched is question. Geralt reached into a coin satchel out at his side and extended a palm with a few pieces of silver.

"Go on then if you coin is what your after." It was his turn to wait to see how proud she was. "Grab it."

"One, two . . . three silver a bit stingy Geralt I have at least half a gold-"

"Grand." Anima snatched the coins out of Geralt's palm clenching it tight in her fist. "Then you can spend your gold on Thill. Come on Witcher, but be warned I'll only be charitable just this once more. Tickle me flattered you put more thought into this guess but-" she trickled the coins from one palm to another, holding up the flesh unmarred by silver. "Still wrong." A genuine smile made another appearance. Geralt had no such smile, a snarl was all he had for his top two ideas being thwarted. "Don't give up I'm sure you'll get it." She took his palm in hers and began their way to her room.

"So you are not interested is Jaskier's gold?" Geralt thought he might have better luck unravelling her if he knew her motives.

"He's gentle enough, he'll pair fine with Thill." Anima stated very mater afactly.

"Am I not gentle enough? That is why the keeper offered you that night?" Nice as he seemed the Inn keeper still had prejudice, worried Geralt was not more man than monster.

"Gentle? Even in your sleep you're all teeth and claw. Getting you in that bed was nothing short-"

"Did I harm you?" Geralt stopped in his tracks like a scolded pup. Mutant or not he did not enjoy the thought of him causing Anima pain.

"Don't flatter yourself Witcher. All the muscle and magic you may be, dead weight is dead weight. We're not so different you and I. You were made in a way to fight the needs of monsters when others do not have the grit to do so and earn coin and a tattered reputation in the process. I'm much the same, trade out the need of monster for the need of man."

"Who made you?" He was finally getting somewhere. He wasn't exactly sure why he was looking this gift horse in the mouth. She was able to make him sleep when nothing else could. Why did he need to know any more?

"Sit." The rule had not changed. Geralt without more protest than a snide glance took a seat on Anima's bed. He could feel it begin, his body both relaxing as well as feverishly fighting that instinct.

"Well?"

"Some lofty idealistic group of men who think they know better than nature. Who else?" He had to have known it wouldn't suddenly become easy.

"When? Were you a child?" As she began the same motions as last time he attempted to beat the clock. "The potion. What's in it?"

"Alp blood mostly but I'm sure you can smell it clearer this time. Last turn, you were still caked in it." She was right he nose had become numb to it before but as soon at it was uncorked he knew it dead to rights. "Scarce thanks to you. We'll use less this time yeah? Give you some more time for questions." with a clink of a spoon her mixture was complete and with an apprehensive swallow she drank it down. "If you dressed down and got comfortable you'd save us all a bit of headache." Just as last time she began to yawn, sitting next to him on the bed.

He relented slightly, kicking off his boots, shedding his heavy leather armor. "And you just have Alp blood on your nightstand . . . because?"

"You're unique Witcher that we all know. Did you think yourself so unique that your mind's the only one grown to fear rest?" As Geralt looked at her, let his eyes linger on her, she did seem more tired than to be expected from a barmaid. A bit of haunt had sunk into those nearly pearl eyes. He was losing interest in trying to figure out what Anima was, but he was paranoid enough to believe that was her doing. He had another theory though quite farfetched.

"I wish . . . wish you'd be forthcoming with me." There was a long pregnant pause after Geralt's statement, the room grew more quiet than he thought possible. Then it erupted, Anima coiled in on herself. Laughter, full hearty laughter filled the space.

"A D'Jinn?" She laughed some more, her pale face grew red as she chose laughter over air.

"Enough."

"Oh more than enough!" Her hands clapped together as tears formed at the corners of her eyes. "Thank you Geralt for that!" She grabbed his face in her palms, he could feel the heat from their collision, but that warmth would be eclipsed by the heat of her lips crushing against his. Geralt did not recoil, not that he had the opportunity, the quick peck was over as soon as it started. As she pulled back he could still feel a buzz of something as his teeth raked at his bottom lip.

"The potion." He stood for a moment in disbelief she had gotten past his defenses a second time.

"Relax." The laughter had finally settled but Anima still looked tickled pink in the cheeks. "It would have happened anyway. Lay down ask questions, grab my tits do whatever you like for your last couple minutes conscious." She let out a hearty yawn as she made herself comfortable in the bed

"This time . . . you used my name." He groaned as his back hit the mattress.

"Those who take . . . or pay, it's an exchange, titles will do." She placed a hand over Geralt's heart. 'So slow.' It was mesmerizing to her. "Those who give Geralt, I use their name acknowledge the gesture." She pressed an ear to the rhythm, she could hear the low beat speed by the smallest increment. Looking up she checked to see if this closeness bothered him. His eyes were half shut but ever stoic.

"And what did I give you?"

"An emotion. I hardly feel them spontaneously anymore." She fell asleep first, just as last time, and same as last in quick succession Geralt followed.

"Geralt!" Jaskier was shaking the poor Witcher with all his might.

"Mr. Witcher." A mouse of a voice echoed behind him.

"Fuck!" Geralt's eyes finally snapped open and his hand reached out for steel but came up empty.

"What I tell you? Smart to move the swords eh?" Anima was seated at her nightstand combing through knots in her long amber hair. she gestured with her brush over at the wall, the new resting place for Geralt's belongings. " I told them not to wake you but why listen when you can shout." She resumed her combing.

"Jaskier. What. Are-"

"Before you get mad I-"

"Too late." Geralt rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Well. Stop it. Because I have an opportunity that will lift even your sour mood. Just across the hill they're holding a tourney-"

"You woke me. For a tourney?" Geralt grabbed Jaskier by the collar. "What are you a child?"

"A monster killing tourney!" Jaskier squealed.

"Everyone will be there. They bring in monsters from cross the continent. The man who slays the most wins the pot." The unknown female that for some unknown reason was at Jaskier's hip elaborated.

"That sounds . . . foolish." Geralt was not warming to the idea as hoped.

"Foolish? You love Killing monsters. Getting paid for publicity what could be better."

"I don't love killing monsters." Geralt let go of the bard with a shove.

"Don't?!" He spun to his counterpart. "He does, he absolutely does. Only thing that gives him purpose."

"Purpose and pleasure are not two in the same." Anima chimed in.

"I . . . I'm sorry are you a Witcher in whore's clothing because-"

"Jaskier!" Geralt gave the bard another shove.

"Sorry." He glanced around Geralt's broad form. "Sorry." He apologized to Anima.

"It's more fun than it sounds. it's tradition. Everyone makes a day about it. I'll pack us a lunch." The young blonde piped up again.

"Oh Thill don't tell me your swept up in this dick measuring contest again?" Anima groaned with disapproval.

"I was . . . was hoping if the Witcher went you'd come along." She passed by Geralt to begin a plea of her own.

"Thill I-" Anima began to protest but Thill did what Geralt had been unable to do, catch Anima off balance.

"The Inn will be closed. No coin to be made You can't hide here forever Anima."

"I'm not." Anima's brushing grew more aggressive.

"You haven't seen the sun in weeks. Ever since-"

"Stop it." Anima's voice rose as she slammed her brush onto the table. "Fine, fine ok I'll go." She let out an angry sigh. "Before you go getting any bright ideas. I tan just fine, I don't burst in the sunlight." Her heated gaze shot over to Geralt.

"Glorious. We're all on board then." Jaskier clasped his hands together as if his plan had gone without a hitch.

"I won't participate in an event that glorifies snatching monsters from their homes dragging them to fight to the death." Geralt saw no valor nor glory in this 'sport'

"Geralt." Jaskier knew what string to pull. "If you wish to be merciful to these creatures you have to enter. You're the only one who knows how to do it properly. The rest will simply hack at the beasts." Jaskier could see the cogs turning slowly in Geralt's head.

"They won't hold another tourney." Geralt relented slightly.

"Sure maybe you'll be mayor for a day and you can decide that. Sooooo?"

"What's for lunch?" Geralt began to pull his armor over his head.

"Oh . . . uh . . . what do witchers eat?"

"Food Thill. They eat food! Come on I'll help you." Anima took her friend by the shoulders and escorted her out of the room.

"Geralt?"

"Jaskier."

"Take it from someone who falls in love with each phase of the moon. Courting a barmaid brings nothing but heartache."

"Jaskier?"

"Yes? I know it seems harsh but-"

"Shut up."

"Right. That seems about right." Jaskier nodded as silence overtook them.

Hours and a town later the tourney was almost ready to start. As Geralt went from wrangler to wrangler stating he would feed them to the monsters if they came back the following year his companions took their seats. "You could atleast look like you're enjoying yourself." Thill chuckled softly at Anima's pursed lips and shifting eyes.

"Rabid monsters and seas of mouth breathers. What's not to love." She slouched in her seat.

"Don't worry if Geralt's saved my life a . . . handful of times. He won't allow you to be eaten." Jaskier half boasted.

"Hmm." Anima rolled her eyes.

"I swear slap on a white wig and some leather they'd be indistinguishable."

Horns blared through the air commanding attention. "Announcing this years contestant in the great conquering tourney. Merek Carac-" a pause for the young man to wave for the fans to cheer. It went this way down the line till they reached the witcher. "Geralt of Rivia." No wave, just a glare in Jaskier's direction. No cheers, mostly silence and some scattered jeers. The silence was broken by a high picked and seemingly encouraging whistle. His glare breaking surprised as he noticed Anima was the source of the defiant sound.

"Go on Geralt! Show them a thing or two. Right?" She jostled Thill, who began to clap, the whole Inn's workforce hoped in on the hype, prying a small smirk from Geralt. It was, as most nice moments, fleeting.

"Leave it to the freaks to cheer for their own." Lady of something or somewhere had to toss in her two coins.

"Hey!" Jaskier whined.

"We're not freaks we-" Thill began a retort but Anima cut her off.

"What can we say? Bet on the strong horse. Freaks get the job done . . . just ask your husband." She threw the woman a wink.

"You're not helping." Geralt shouted up at her but the flash of a smile stated otherwise.

"Fine. Wouldn't want to take the class out of the slaughter." Anima threw up her hands in defeat.

Who could have predicted this event dissolving into chaos? Geralt could, Geralt had and after abiding by the rules slaying drowners, a noonwraith, a flier all while dodging thorns shooting from the archespore growing along the arena walls it had all been for naught. When his last competitor Merek, who had to be pulled from the jaws of an Algohl had been deemed second place, when it became obvious that the masses were expected to cheer for a Witcher, the mood blackened. The tourney narrator walked out somber as if heading to the gallows before introducing Geralt as the champion. They didn't want to reward him with cheers prizes and respect. Since the very begging they had wanted the WItcher to fail.

"Let the beasts out!" Someone shouted. "See how superior the mutants are then eh?" That was the crux of it, he wasn't like them and to admit that someone . . . something not fully human had bested their best, well that could not stand.

"This is not good." Jaskier had seen a town or two turn on Geralt, and though the Witcher never dwelled on it outwardly he knew, it did bite at whatever passed for the white wolf's emotions.

"He won fair and square leave him alone!" Thill seemed the only one fully surprised at this reaction. Her naÃve words were drown out by boos and demands for the dismemberment of the Witcher.

"Shit." Jaskier lept from his seat as the sound of unoiled gates grinding open echoed the arena. "Geralt?" He paced down to the edge of the seating looming over Geralt, who had yet to move from his spot. "I think it's time we move along." He shouted.

"I don't work for free Jaskier." Geralt, seemingly unphased held out his hand to the man who had pronounced him winner. "Well?" he waited a moment. When the man clearly in over his head stared at him dumfounded he continued. "I don't think you want to be in here with me . . . or the monsters when those gates fully open" A Fliter had already escaped it's holding swooping and screeching overhead. As the man took note he handed over a large satchel of duckets and gold over to the Witcher.

"I'm sorry I didn't think this would happen I . . . What is that?!" Thill's eyes grew large as she pointed behind Geralt, who happened to also glance over his shoulder.

"Golem." He watched as creatures poured from every door window and crevasse. "Jaskier get them out of here!" He barked pulling a cork off a mixture banewart amongst other unsavory herbs and drank it down. "Now."

"Well you heard the man!" Jaskier didn't need to be told twice the flee the impending horde.

"Geralt you can't kill them all on your own." Anima watched as silver clashed with scales and sinew.

"If I don't defeat them. Who else will?" A wave of Igni cascaded from Geralts palm across the floor nipping at the heels of what he had much earlier noticed were watered down monsters, half of them missing claws and binding curses that made them far more trouble in the wilds. A beast without fangs, was still very much a beast. "They'll massacre the whole town." Blackened eyes met those pale as linen. But behind the light eyes Geralt saw nothing but darkness, anger, hatred. Not for the Witcher, for the town he was fighting to protect, towards the people. Those eyes spoke as much as they stared, screaming from deep inside Anima.

'Let them die, let them have the monsters they asked for.'

"Shite!" Thill held her hands over her the right side of her neck. "It burns!" Quickly words dissolved into tears. Anima broke her glare at Geralt, all that hatred and malice, as if it never existed, replaced with empathy and concern. A stray thorn from a Archeospore had grazed the young girl's neck.

"You're fine Thill." Anima cooed, pulling her friend's hands away touching the scrape, knuckling away some blood.

"I'm . . . I'm fine." Thill nodded mostly reassured, her breathing leveling out.

"Jaskier! Get them out now!" Geralt would not repeat himself.

"Right yes. Ladies . . . lets. . . Is that lightning? Geralt is that you or the . . . you know what? Question for another time." A hand on each woman's shoulder he escorted them out to the fields, over to Roach where they would wait.

A little over an hour of waiting had passed before the group grew unruly. "Thill sit here. I'm going to find some herbs." Anima's words were not of her normal aloof cadence, they were short and curt.

"Are you angry with me?" Thill did sit but she looked up at Anima with a pouting face. There was something off, Anima was perspiring, there was a twitch in her gate where she paced. "Anima you haven't-"

"Go out you said. Can't hide in the Inn. They're better in the light you said. They're no better Thill they're-" Anima was interrupted first by a bray from Roach, then by the sight of a small object falling into Thill's lap.

"Open it." Geralt was yards away shuffling towards the group, a sneer visible from a distance.

"Geralt, quite an adventurous day we can all agree?" Jaskier knew this pot was about to boil over and he also knew Geralt would be more than willing to toss the bard into the froth. "Ugh what . . . what is that smell?" He glanced down at Thill and the vile.

"It's better not to ask." Geralt shrugged off the question. "Hold it to your lips but do not drink from it." His potions and cures were meant for Witchers not for frail human immune systems. "Contact should slow the circulation of the toxin till we get back to Anima's nightstand." Thill's face puckered as the glass hit her lips. She coughed and sputtered as she pulled it away.

"Yuck." She held up the vial not to Geralt but to Anima.

"You were hit as well?" Geralt glared over at Jaskier, he had given the bard one task.

"No." Anima shook her head and waved away the bottle.

"Hmm." Geralt did not smell any blood from her, but he was covered in blood bile and any other bodily fluid known to man. He turned an ear to her heartbeat, it was uneven rapid then shallow. He caught another sound, her teeth, they were grinding in almost a rhythmic motion. "Listen to your friend." Geralt had an insistence is his tone. He didn't know what ailed her but something was off.

"Anima I'm sorry . . . I just wanted to brighten your spirits . . . You've been distant lately. If I had known this would've happened I would never have insisted we-"

"It's not your fault this cursed continent is overrun with fools." Anima could have continued lashing out at Thill but she had made her point. Almost the moment the Witcher's potion touched her lips she felt her heart hault, there was a long pause before it beat again. 'Still not as slow as his.' She glanced over at Geralt whose face was knit in what could almost be read as concern. She sighed heavy as she corked the bottle, as the realization froze her bones. She was losing it, just as she had been promised she would. Her eyes lazily traveled from companion to companion. Jaskier the almost generic poster for the human nature of optimism and theatrics, the glass was forever on it's way to being filled for the bard. Thill who despite being a plaything for those of better means was almost equally optimistic, full of faith in the best of man. Even Geralt, a witcher rumored to have been voided of all human emotion, had shown his own brand of compassion, saving those who had wished him maiming at best right to his face. That left her, she glanced at her own hand as she gave back the potion. What had Thill stated? Distant? Yes with each passing heartbeat she was growing more and more distant and detached from humanity. "Fools are fun in their own right I suppose." She forced a smile on her face, hoping to appease Thill. "Unfortunately we missed lunch. Head back to the tavern? Finish our adventure there?" She helped her friend to her feet.

"Yes." The smile had done it's job. Thill seemed convinced the day could still be saved.

"I could eat." Jaskier seconded the proposal.

"Hmm" Geralt seemed less sold.

"Come now Witcher. I'll draw you a bath" Anima swept some goo off his armor. "Or two."

"Fine."

"Look ere! In walks the champion!" Thom clapped his heavy fists and scattered applause followed. "And the bard's still alive."

"Why does he keep saying that?" Jaskier mewled as they entered the Inn bustling as if chaos hadn't taken a shit on their tradition.

'It has to be this building.' Geralt tried to search every visible inch for a rune or sigil. The applause could be brushed off as a group of slightly less closed minded individuals but what it did to her, it had to be magic. The second Anima passed through the door the ghost of a smile that had been nailed into her face, sprung to life. Her shoulders that had been curled in under some unspoken burden bloomed wide. Her voice regained it's confidence, it's warm care free tone.

"Witcher third room down the hall. We'll have you cleaned in no time. Thill clear a table, I don't know about you but I need to get the taste of that potion out my mouth. Bard keep the mood up for us?" Her fingers pointed in all different directions. "I'll get something made for that scratch Thill." And she was gone, floating with a bit of a skip towards her chambers. Geralt watched her till the door shut behind her.

Almost as if a spell had broken he came to his senses once she was out of his sight. 'Don't get involved.' She wasn't hurting anyone, he hadn't been paid to dispatch or save her, her riddle was not his to solve. "Hmm" He made his way towards his promised bath. 'Witcher.' He scowled, why did the way she said his title hit his ear so sourly. 'Geralt.' As he began to shed his armor and shortly after his clothing her call of his name swirled in his head. He preferred it, he liked the way his named spilled over her lips. By the time the tub had been filled for him he still hadn't shaken the thought, that he wanted to hear her call it again. "Fuck." His fists bent at the edges of the wood as he felt blood pool in the pit of his abdomen.

As the sun began to set the group finally sat down for their long delayed lunch. Jaskier rambled off stories of his and Geralt's grand adventures. The Witcher only speaking up when Jaskier's tales drifted too far off into the realm of the absurd. While Thill listened with the usually fever of awe and amazement, Anima's attention seemed to be barely hanging on by a frayed lute string. "Are we keeping you from something?" Geralt broke Jaskier off at near the climax of a tale.

"My profession is all." She waved over the full tavern a bit of a sneer in her smile.

"Coin isn't everything Anima. Please just have fun for a night." Thill pleaded.

"Adverse to a good time? Obsessed with their job. Geralt were you separated from a red headed twin at birth and didn't tell me?"

"No more charity that's what you said right?" Geralt ignored the bard in convincing fashion.

"I did. Though you did stop a possible genocide so I suppose that does put you back in our good graces." Anima was took ever so slightly by surprise at how intensely Geralt was staring at her. He reached to his side and pulled up his satchel of winnings. He pulled out a handful of gold coins.

"Is this enough?"

"It's more than enough for what you're after Witcher come on." She stood from her seat. Helping the Witcher sleep wasn't something she enjoyed taking coin for. She started her way towards her room but was halted by a slightly rough grip on her wrist.

"And I'm after more?"

"Oh?" Anima's smile lost all dismissal as she looked deep in the Witcher's eyes to asses his new desires.

"What. Is. Happening?" Jaskier's jaw was nearly on the Inn floor. He got no answer as He and Thill were deserted without another word from the barmaid nor the Witcher.

As she heard the door latch behind the Witcher she began to disrobe, till she effortlessly stood their bare, her back still towards Geralt. She heard his gloves hit the floor. then felt calloused hands attempt to be soft as they traveled over her skin. They traced over every inch but he wasn't exploring. She knew this touch, he was inspecting. "I see, looking for more clues are we?" Though her smile didn't budge She felt a way she hadn't in years, embarrassed, as his finger traced a scar near her kidney once twice a third time. Disappointment was mixed in there but she chose to ignore it.

"Do you hate them?" Even his voice was bending to sound as soft as his gruff vocal cords would allow. This scar it wasn't from an accident in the wilds, or a heavy handed patron, it was from a soldier's blade he was sure of it. It wasn't an anomaly, her body was a constellation of out of place marks, from man and monster alike.

"The scars? Perhaps my beauty has been slightly marred-"

"Humans." He wouldn't allow her to use her silver tongue to shirk away this time.

"I . . ." Words formed and died on her lips. She sat down on her bed, her head hung for only a moment before glancing up an admittedly poor attempt at a smile on her face. "Not all of them . . . Not most of the time. Sometimes I worry I'll-" She shook her head trying to dislodge some sense. "You didn't pay to hear my worries Witcher."

"I wish you'd be more forthcoming." He sat beside her. Geralt was able to pry a dry chuckle from Anima. "Law of diminishing returns I see."

"Huh?" She truly had no idea what he meant by that.

"Last night that phrase rewarded me with a kiss as I recall."

"Ah." This chuckle had more life behind it. "If reward is what your after, you're going about it in the most tortuous way."

"Jaskier has said . . . I'm a bit of a glutton for misery."

"Duly noted." She was comfortable again, in her wheelhouse. She leaned in a kissed the Witcher, not a quick peck but a confident crash of her lips against his. She bit ruthlessly hard at his bottom lip, a lesser man would have recoiled as she drew blood but the white wolf simply emitted what was as much a growl as it was a groan. If Anima had convinced herself she was in control a swift motion of hips quicker than a blink convinced her otherwise. His touch changed, he was exploring, teasing in points tickling, causing her to giggle between clutches for air. It had been long, immeasurably so since he heard such soft lighthearted sounds directed his way.

"Quite a sensitive one." He jested.

"You have no idea." She felt the exploration dip lower tickles turned to taunts of her most sensitive parts. Anima wiggling and writhing under Geralt's weight dipped her hand beneath his shirt, raking nails down to his naval, tracing softly up against her fresh marks. She attempted to explore lower but in another blink her wrists were locked above her within a vice like grip. "Witcher what are you-"

"Quiet."

"What?"

"Don't speak." there was an odd command to his voice. Anima cocked her head to the side trying to figure out what was actually unfolding.

'Oh . . . he's pretending I'm someone else.' She rationalized best she could. It was a task easier said than done, blood wasn't exactly surging to her brain. She was aflame, as fingers thrust in and out she bucked up to meat him.

"Shhh!" He wanted her quieter still but it wasn't a request she could meet, whines and groans hissed past clenched teeth.

"Witcher p-" words were sucked deep inside of her gut as the fingers were replaced with a slow and rhythmic thrusts of Geralt's length. Fingers freed up and honed in on the center of her nerves. An attack on her body that depending on your perspective lasted hours or moments, bringing her right to the edge and once he felt her muscles tense just before release he would slow. "Wit-"

"Don't call me that." He froze all motions waiting patiently for her frenzied eyes to meet his.

"Geralt! I'll go mad just give me relief." Another twist of hips and Anima found her hands free her body atop his.

"Go mad then." He had a satisfied grin perched on his face. It took a moment for her to process the series of events. This was his powerplay, he wanted her to want it, to need it. To want him, Geralt the man, erase any thought of the white Witcher. "You aren't expecting me to do all the work are you?" He didn't want her back in her senses, he didn't want her to rest. Not daring to be hushed again she ground herself feverishly against him, gliding up and down with dripping ease, pulling in a vengful way on Geralt's hair, exposing his neck, which she sunk her teeth as climax washed over both of them. Anima's bones turned to jelly she colapsed ontop of Geralt.

She nestled her ear over his heart. "So W . . . Geralt. Any new guesses?"

"You're dangerous Anima."

"Dangerous?" She chuckled her eyes growing heavy.

"A dangerous woman indeed." Craning his face he could see a smile curl on her face. "Human's are jealous petty creatures Anima" He was speaking to himself as much as her, petting aimlessly at her hair. "They don't want to see those with more of . . . anything whether it be a Witcher's sense or a . . ." He paused jokingly waiting for Anima to finally shed some light on her entomology. He unsurprisingly was not enlightened, but was rewarded by the sound of soft snoring against his chest. "We are more Anima . . . we have to BE more and not let them have us think ourselves less." He let out an exasperated sigh, motivation was not his strong suit. He pulled a blanket over the duo and let sleep overtake him.

"Geralt?!" There was a feverish tapping on Anima's door. "Geralt?!" The tap turned to a knock. "Thill says Roach has gone missing! Geralt?!" Before the knock could escalate to a bang the door whipped open to a groggy, cranky faced Anima.

"Your Witcher's in another castle." She bent a crick out of her neck, glaring at the twosome of Jaskier and Thill who had now twice in a row woke her from her slumber.

"You sweet thing if you think this Inn a castle you need to see more of the world." Jaskier shook his head as his mind drifted to fantastical memories of ornate kingdoms.

"The world is over rated." She slammed him back to reality. "And don't call me sweet thing. Describe it anyway you like, he's not here." She moved aside from her doorway exposing an empty bed, and wider yet an empty room.

"He left?" Jaskier stamped his foot in annoyance.

"Without you? Must've been urgent." The ever naÃve Thill interjected.

"Yes . . . must've . . .real time sensitive. He would never leave . . . hasn't . . . this isn't like Geralt." Jaskier leaned into Thill's thought that he and the Witcher were a inseparable team of adventures.

"Right." Anima leaned against her door frame shutting her eyes. "Well he left an hour ago perhaps more. If you jog-"

"Wait he said goodbye to you and couldn't even give me a heads up?!"

"I never said he bid me a formal farewell, just that he left." Anima corrected with a yawn. "You can rub that salt in him bard. Witcher isn't as stealthy as he'd like to believe." Her cocky smile was met with two pairs of questioning eyes asking why she hadn't stopped him. "Do you think pleading would have made a difference?" She retorted their silent judgements. "In my experience if a man is keen to sneak from your bed it's a fools gambit to convince him otherwise." She added with a shrug. "Bard the gap is only widening. Either chase after him or wait for him to return." She began to close to her door on the mutes. "Geralt will be back, if time doesn't get the best of us." And with that her door slammed shut.


	3. The bad times

Months seemd to trickle by. He did have all intentions of revisiting Anima whether it was for rest or for more he was still debating. As their travels brought them closer to Lyria the battle crept more often than he'd care from his unconcious back thoughts to his fore focus. But it was in a different Inn in it's sister city that drove him from yearning to action. "You did what?" Geralt slammed a fist hard into a table of patrons that the witcher, or anyone with two working ears could not help but hear. The thud of which his palm met wood even prompted silence from Jaskier's lute that had been strumming festively.

"We don't need your services Witcher. We reasoned with the monsters."

"One doesn't reason with monsters." Geralt snapped. "You simply delayed your undoing by what? Providing them travel to an unprepared mass of food? So they can come back stronger? Hungrier?" In the moment it was Geralt who looked ravenous, like he would bite the baron's head clean from his shoulders.

"Geralt . . . friend?" Jaskier placed a tenative hand on one of Geralt's squared shoulders. "Everything alright?"

"They're escorting Bruxa to Lyria"

"Bruxa? Aren't they vampires?"

"Yes"

"And Lyria that's where that Inn you like so much is isn't it?" To this Jaskier got no verbal response, geralt being all but physically unable to admit he liked much of anything. "What is with them and vampires? Didn't you fight vampires the last time we were there?"

"No. Last time we were there you goated me into a tournament w-"

"Oh right the tourney with those two lovely . . .Oh now I see. But there were plenty of monster in that tourney are you sure there weren't any vampires?" Jaskier floated absent mindly from point to point.

"hmm." Geralt did not have time for such semantics and made his way to the door.

"Right. get ahead of the trouble, be twice the hero get paid twice as handsomly. Or . . .or are we doing it to save your damsel in distress?"

"You're telling me the Witcher's got a woman in waiting?" The Baron of bright ideas chimed in again.

"Well I wouldn't say waiting . . . see she's-"

"Jaskier!"

"Yes? Shut up? Fairly certain he meant to say shut up." The bard skipped the paces between them as to not to be left behind again.

"So for maxium seduction points does one roll into the Inn and declare you're there to save the day? Or . . . kill the beasts first? Slam a severed head on a table and let the affection pour over you?"

"Jaskier I'm-"

"You're right. Saying it out loud a severed head isn't as sexy as it sounded in my mind."

"I'm going to Lyria to kill Bruxa. Not to seduce."

"Right. It's a witcher's duty to hunt monsters and be immesurebly cruel and crass to their charming companions, sure. Tell me Geralt. With that straight scowling face of yours that you would have been so furious with the baron had your precuous Inn not been in the cross hairs? Be honest Geralt you truely expect me to believe you don't feel anything at all for the snarky little red head?"

"Feel? You've been singing too many half baked sonnets bard. Haven't you heard what they say about Witchers?"

"I have." Jaskier watched as Roach's trot sped up. "And if anyone knows what made up shite to sell a story sounds like . . . it's me!" He shouted across their widening gap.

It wasn't an exact science, if one, even one with heightened senses could smell emotion. Science or not the town reeked of fear, despair and a far more tangible odor, death. "So many? Already?" Geralt winced as the stench of soured bodies greeted them at the edge of town.

"I'm telling you. Vampires love the place. must be something in the . . .blood?" Jaskier made more of a statement of than a hypothesis.

"It hit them out of nowhere. They had no chance to mount a defense."

"Are they . . . all dead?" Jaskier took all humor from his voice.

"No."

"Well that's good! Perhaps we should stop at the Inn check-"

"It's a plague Jaskier. If I don't put a stop to it now . . . they will all die."

"Urgency yes. But I think going into battle distracted is-"

"Distracted? Jaskier enough! I don't have time-"

"Did I say you distracted? I meant me." Jaskier changed tactics, realizing he was not going to Geralt to admit that this was any different than any other monster hunt. "Please, let me just make sure Thea-"

"Thill." Geralt corrected, blowing Jaskiers plan of self depreciation out of the water. The bard was not in the slightest deterred.

"Yes my dearest Thill. Let me just check on her well being and then we can kill monsters till your over grown arms give out."

"Hmm" Geralt was visably insulted that Jaskier thought even had he gotten the name right he would have succeeded in his deception. "Go on then. You remeber where the Inn is don't you? Right where we left it. Stay there, don't let anyone leave till I return."

"Return? Damnit Geralt just pop your head in tell them you're not going to let them die and then go . . . Witcher. It's the least you can do."

"The least I could do is pass right through the town. I'm not under anyone's contract. Jaskier why are you-"

"Pass right through? We both know you've never just passed through a town in your life!" The reason Jaskier was pressing so hard was though he didn't know what it was there was a distinct reason Geralt was avoiding the Inn. If Anima was dead he would have galloped into the woods with a blood lust. Instead he traveled forward at a steady pace his eyes angrily darting to the Inn to spite his face. Whether she was injured or sick Jaskier didn't know. Truthfully he didn't pretend to understand the full scope of what Witcher's could or could not sniff out. What he did know was Geralt was rilled, distracted and that could get them both killed. A creek of an opening door from the now infamous Inn put a hault to their sqabble.

"Witcher?!" Thom's voice was as happy as always to greet them, but there was a tiredness that hadn't been there a year ago. "How do you always to manage to show up right when we need ya? Come in!" He waved over the two lone souls smack in the middle of town.


End file.
